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Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetr..
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madness
prayer
depression
god
asymmetry
atlantic
blind-man
blossom
left-eye
living-things
nineteen-years-old
power-of-sight
clock
tree
sacraments
bones
starlight
apple
wind
autumn
colors
smile
questions
mirror
horror
journey
eyes
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Tim Willocks |